


A tale as old as Oxford

by tinyandsassy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angry Louis, F/M, Harrys dad is mick bc he may as well be irl idk, Kinda straight, M/M, Niam's cool, Perrie is my fave, Zayn looks like a prince, always angry, based on The Riot Club, hidden identity, i mean go with it, kinda gay, like a tiny angry hedgehog, lil bit Lilo but go with it, oh wait he is, sorry to kill y'alls Ziam side ship fantasies but im not actually sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 20:22:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4638930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyandsassy/pseuds/tinyandsassy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry meets the most eccentric group of people in the world and slap bang in the middle is Louis Tomlinson, his signature smirk painted on his thin lips most of the time, slowly it falls off and Harry needs to know why. Niall is everyones favourite. Liam can't face the sun sober. Zayn is royalty with the most beautiful girl draped over his arm. All in all Louis is a bad influence.</p><p> </p><p>Based loosely on The Riot Club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A tale as old as Oxford

**Author's Note:**

> Throughout the story, there will either be a mention of Anorexia or a description, nothing too major but just a warning to anyone who may find it unsettling or triggering. Harrys coping mechanism is denial on the subject, just a heads up.
> 
> Enjoy x

Innocence is prescriptive, individual, subjective. Harry always thought he fell under the category of innocence just because he'd never gotten in trouble at school or his mother had only grounded him once for breaking her favourite vase, but they don't talk about that. Other than that he could be an angel in disguise, never corrupted, a hard worker, always has been. Harry always liked to create the bigger picture, he lived for it. From staying inside the lines in his colouring book to struggling with six A-Level qualifications just to get into Oxford. If he wanted to go then he could, his father could have paid him in there (he is anyway) but Harry wanted to earn it himself. So he did. Not one drop of alcohol, not one drag of a cigarette, not one hit of drugs has ever gone in Harrys system. Well, apart from that one beer he had at Niall Horans 13th birthday party, but they don't talk about that either. Meaning it does not count. Niall insists that it does but Harry was quick to shut that overly loud mouth of his.

Having not had the pleasure of visiting the prestigious campus before he enrolled, Harry was entirely engrossed in the buildings surrounding him. So engrossed he hadn't taken the cue to get out of the limo until his impatient mother knocked on the window. Her hip was jutted out in annoyance as well as her eyes quickly rolled. Don't get Harry wrong, he loves his mother, she's just a little? A little...much one would say. Despite him knowing he has never done anything wrong, when his mother was around, she's always picking something out about him. Whether it be his outfit, his attitude or his choice of partner, they were very rarely full of praise. His father however, was someone who Harry aspired to be. He could remember from a young age clinging to his fathers legs and begging to be taken to work. It didn't work for a year despite 8 year old Harry wishing for it on every opportunity that presented itself, safe to say tell him to wish on an eyelash and he'll just blow it away, he almost pulled them all out as a kid, desperate for that wish to go to work with his father. Even now, Harry can still remember the day he got to ride shotgun in his fathers silver Mercedes. The giggles that filled the car as carefree Harry gripped the door and peered out the window at the buildings which passed by. A lot like right then, how captivated Harry was by the campus buildings, they looked like someone had stolen them straight from Harry Potter and dumped them slap bang in the lower centre of England. A rough hour and a half drive from London, which he had just made. Enduring his mothers high pitched voice which raved about renovations to her house while his father sat beside him, occasionally patting his knee that coincided with his endearing anecdotes about his days as Harrys age. University wasn't in the picture for him but he's okay, Harry knew he didn't need university but what better way to be free than to enrol in Oxford and blow daddy's money? Harry sighed loudly in the now empty car before stepping out, his black boots making a femininely audible click on the pavement as he stood to his full height. His mother watched (again, impatiently) as her son raised his arms above his head stretching out his long body from being cooped up for unnecessarily long. Anne visibly cringed as a few vertebrae popped cathartically down Harrys spine. Harry tugged his white shirt down from where it had ridden up onto his love handles he loathed so much, no one else seemed to like them either, they were always pointed out whenever he had his shirt off with someone, regardless of the situation. Harrys tried his hardest to rid his body of them but everywhere else would get slimmer and more toned while they stayed pudgy, looking even more so the thinner he got. In the end his father noticed his only sons dropping weight forcing him into therapy and hospital for something that didn't need to be spoken about, anorexia schmanorexia in Harrys opinion.  
"Harry, come on, I need to get back to London" his mother sighed at the inconvenience of dropping her son off at Oxford fucking university but okay Anne. Harry didn't say a word, he found it easier to go along with her, like he said innocence. "Anne stop being a impatient cow"  
Harry felt a familiar hand on his shoulder making him snicker, his mother glared at them both before muttering that her feet were hurting so she was going to sit in the car. Why wear the fucking louboutins if they hurt your feet? Harry thought but never said out loud, just watched his mother complain until the car door slammed shut behind her.  
"Carlson has taken everything up to your flat that we brought, last night he and Peter brought everything in the moving truck up here, all the boxes are in your flat too. All you've got to do is sign in!" Mick clapped Harrys back before gripping the back of his sons neck and gave it a little squeeze. Supposed to be friendly but Harry was sensitive everywhere and the touch just sent unpleasant shocks down his spine. "You okay from here?"  
Harry nodded dumbly, as much as he would love his father to go with him to sign in and too see his home for the next four years, he knew he couldn't, he's Mick Jagger, he can't go anywhere. Plus, Harry didn't want people to know he was his father, that's why he and Mick had devised a suitable plan. Mick sighed with a smile then rested his hands on Harrys shoulders.  
"Harold Theodore Jagger" he started making Harry chuckle "I am forever proud of you and you'll do great here, don't end up a washed up rockstar or better yet, don't end up as a rockstar okay, stick in, be good, get some girls" Harry laughed again "and some boys, better yet, a few of both at the same time aught to do it"  
"Dadddddd" Harry whined.  
"Right right, fine, I'm sorry, have fun son, see you soon" Mick looked around to see no one looking at them so he hugged his only child and that felt good. The two waved until the car was out of sight with his mother only mumbling a goodbye and a good-luck, she didn't even get out of the car to hug him or look at him when she waved. Her hand just flailing lazily in his general direction while she typed away on her phone. Harry sighed (yet again) as he picked up his Coach bag, slinging it on one broad shoulder to weave through the prospective students and their families, all he wanted was to find the reception not to be used as a human pinball. He was pretty sure he had six new bruises but he would check them later. The reception wasn't hard to find after that, only because Harry had height on most people meaning he could see over their heads. As Harry hitched up his bag to push open the doors, a guy walked out, a smug look plastered on his face, he winked at Harry on his way past, making sure to look back over his shoulder and blatantly check out his lean figure. The stranger looked up to Harrys eyes and gave another wink of approval before sauntering off. Harry stood for a second, taking in what just happened. Probably a good idea if he actually walked into the fucking office like he intended to do.  
"Full name please?" The bored boy behind the dated computer screen dragged, not even bothering to look up but Harry was too polite to say anything.  
"Harry Edward Styles"

**Author's Note:**

> s'just short but it's a start.  
> Thank you for reading my loves x


End file.
